


Privilege

by lactoria



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BDSM, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Spanking, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lactoria/pseuds/lactoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I bet you’ll check your privilege next time, won’t you fucker?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Privilege

How could you do this to yourself?  Have you really sold yourself out for a taste of carnal pleasure?  You should be ashamed of yourself.  You have reduced yourself to nothing more than just another hypocrite with empty values and dead-end conviction.  You’re no better than those you silently judge (but no one must ever know that your ideas are less than wholesome).  You compromised your beliefs to sate a curiosity, and it feels like you’ve cheated your morale.  What ground do you have to stand on now?  Who are you now, Kankri Vantas?  
  
You recall with a guiltily enticed shiver how it began—with temptation.  
  
There is no denying the poignance of desire or the heart-stopping thrill of capitulation.   There’s an invigorating rush in fighting, but it’s even more appealing to give up the fight, to lose to someone else.  You struggled to uphold your strict moral code as Karkat Vantas, your descendant and appointed disciple, pushed your boundaries.  
  
"You think you can talk your way out of anything.  Have you ever raised your hand against someone?  Have you been so cushioned by Beforus culture that you don’t know what it’s like to HAVE to defend yourself?!  Do you even believe the crap you preach?  You hide behind a veil of equality but in reality you’re just as much an asshole as anyone—maybe even MORE so because you’re not honest.  You’re a deceptive douchebag.  At least I can admit I’m a fucking jerk!"  
  
You wince at the brutality of his words.  He’s just trying to get to you, trying to strike a chord.  You are older, wiser, and far more grounded than this young, brash Alternian troll, and you will prove it!  You puff out your chest and look down your nose at Karkat.  
  
"There is more to life than corporeal gain, Karkat.  You would do well to remind yourself of what our goal is.  Let me remind you: it is surival, and I—"  
  
"See, it’s this shit right here, this holier-than-thou garbage you spout that makes everyone resent you.  No one wants to listen to a social justice fun-killing know-it-all.  I am so sick of your attitude.  Do you think you’re better than me?  Your friends?  EVERYONE?  What makes you so superior?  Do you honestly fucking think you’re enlightened?  I got news for you: you’re all talk, no action, and I am going to show you what people do to spoiled privileged brats who pretend they’re on the level with everyone else."  
  
When push comes to shove, you are no match for your younger alternate.  It’s embarrassingly easy for Karkat to pin you down.  He uses most of his weight to smash you to the floor and practically crushes your thin wrists beneath his knees to prevent you from lashing out.  You try in vain to kick your legs and thrash your body, but it’s a pitiful endeavor.  Karkat snorts derisively as he tears your clothes away with little effort.  He balls up one of your own socks and shoves it into your mouth, and the concept of it nearly has you gagging on the spot.  While you are distracted with suppressing your nausea, the Alternian Vantas hoists you up into his lap (you can’t help the fact that you are so slim and diminutive) and binds your arms behind your back with your own sweater.  You try to spit out your rolled-up gag to protest the abuse of your favorite garment but Karkat notices this and jams it deeper into your mouth.  The deadly look he gives you is enough to cease further argument.  
  
You want to scream over the audacity of his unwarranted behavior.  He is using force, and it’s all against your will (or so you think).  It’s so flagrantly inappropriate your pan is scrambled as to what to make of his misdeeds and the motives behind them.  
  
Your breath catches in your throat (for lack of anywhere else to go) as the last barriers are stripped from you.  Cold air hits your bulge which instinctively recoils, and knowing that you are completely naked before someone is so deeply humiliating that you clench your eyes shut.  Your cheeks are heating up and you can’t bear to look at your aggressor.  You’ve read accounts of things like this, but you never expected to become a victim yourself.  
  
"Stop being so fucking dramatic, you little priss."  Karkat snarls and slaps you across the face.  Your head snaps around, eyes jarred wide open under impact.  Karkat doesn’t give you time to react; he’s up in your face, hands gripping your shoulders tight enough to inflict bruises, and he shakes you.  Hard.  
  
"Are you gonna cry?  You can’t blow your stupid fucking trigger whistle now.  What are you going to do?  Will you hate me?  CAN you actually hate me?"  
  
He rolls you backward off his lap, and you tumble unceremoniously to the ground.  Your bound wrists dig into your back, but you don’t dare move to much lest it vex your irascible descendant.  
  
Karkat glares hotly down at your naked form, the intensity of his stare daunting.  Carelessly, he drags his shirt up over his head and slingshots it out of sight, leaving you to marvel at his battle scars.  Karkat’s upper torso is well-built, dense and muscular.  He possesses a grizzled beauty that’s oddly captivating.  You can’t seem to look away.  
  
That is, until he turns you over his knee.  Your chin hits the ground, and you instinctively clench your jaw as you wriggle about in your new position spread over his lap.  Not only is this immensely disconcerting but it’s also highly indecent.  If Karkat notices your unrest, he doesn’t address it or pay your discomfort any mind.  He hikes up his knee, elevating your bare rear.  
  
"Bitches get what bitches deserve."  And that’s the last thing you hear from Karkat before he lays his open hand down on your rump.  Repeatedly.  A resounding slap startles the still atmosphere, your yelp muffled into the fabric lodged in your mouth.  He smacks you again, over the other cheek, and you can feel your skin ripple.  You squirm in a futile attempt to avoid another stinging slap, but he is relentless and soon enough he is wailing on your ass with wild abandon.  
  
Your skin is burning, ass jiggling under the assault.  You twist and turn to look over your shoulder, and by the time you manage to catch a glimpse of Karkat he is looking back at you.  And the look on his face is so wanton, so hungry, that you can’t avert your eyes.  You wish you could lick your lips because you feel so dry and feverish.  Karkat smooths a hand over the twin globes, feeling the heat radiating, and he squeezes one mound of flesh so roughly that you choke on your sock.  
  
Karkat’s laugh boils your blood.  He exacerbates the situation with a tiny swat just below your posterior toward the curvy bottom, causing your bulge to shrink in fear.  
  
"So fucking soft, so supple… so breakable.  You’ve been raised with a silver spoon in your mouth.  Must be nice.  Tell me, does it feel nice to be such a doughy twit?"  
  
His hand streaks over twin cheeks and you wail into the constricting cloth.  It seems like he’s let up after a few moments, but instead he hefts you up and places you in his lap.  His bare chest presses up against your back, and you strain to see what’s going on beneath you.  
  
You see Karkat’s bulge flash between your thighs and your bloodpumper drops.  
  
"MmmhHhpHHH!!!"  
  
"I bet you’ll check your privilege next time, won’t you fucker?"  
  
A fist encloses your own bulge, and the sensation is frightfully… pleasant.  Your hips jerk as your length fills his palm.  Tingles spread and shoot up through your groin.  You moan despite yourself.  
  
Oh, this is good.  Too good.  
  
And so, so wrong.  
  
You can’t deny that Karkat’s fingers pressing into your flesh, kneading your bulge, squeezing and pulling and clutching feels amazing… but you shouldn’t be so stimulated.  
  
You should be immune to this.  Your body is betraying you.  
And it’s downright shameful.  Your pan is working overtime to convince your body to resist, but the lack of experience makes you that much more susceptible to the rakish troll’s wiles.  
  
Sensitive skin prickles, nerves alight, and your eyes roll back in your head.  An arm folds possessively over your chest, lips mouthing the nape of your neck, and the warm, moist breath is tantalizing.  You can’t help but wiggle and arch.  
  
When Karkat chuckles, you hate him, and it’s that hatred churning in your gut that enhances your arousal.  
  
God, what has he done to you?  You took a solemn vow of chastity, and though he is stealing your innocence it is not entirely unwelcome, and that in itself is what is tying you in knots.  
  
Karkat is muttering into your hair, something about talk being cheap, about doing what’s best, but you don’t hear words anymore.  He’s right; talk is cheap.  What are words but sounds that vanish once spoken?  This, here, is what is real.  The hands wandering skin, the indentations of touch, the wet smack of lips, the graze of teeth…  
  
You feel something hard prodding at an area previously untouched, and you buckle and squeal once you realize just what’s about to transpire.  
  
But it’s too late.  Your nook is widening, stretching, accommodating a very thick girth that is insistently breaching your defenses.  Within a few agonizing seconds of thrusting, of pushing, Karkat is inside you.  And to make matters worse, your newly invaded nook is pulsing so intensely that you can feel it.  Every inch of your internal walls are wrapped around his shaft, and locked together you both moan, clench tight, and he proceeds to move within you.  
  
You are bound, gagged, unable to use your mouth or your arms, and Karkat is rocking you in his lap.  It’s deliciously depraved, and you can’t tell who you hate more: him or you.  Your body is rebelling against you, defying you with each hot throb.  Tears prick your eyes as frustration wrestles with lust, your hips rolling, ass bouncing, spread thighs trembling.  
  
And this is where you find yourself, hopelessly caught in a whirlwind of emotions, straining against your bonds, every twitch reminding you of Karkat’s turgid member working its way in and out of your tight nook, penetrating over and over without relent.  You can distinctly hear him panting behind you, keenly feel his teeth in your shoulder, and when he comes inside you, there is no escaping it.  
  
Hot spatters of fluid spray your insides, the influx of genetic material so great that it trickles out.  You spot the bright red droplets and it’s enough to make you careen over the edge, but—  
  
Karkat throttles the base of your bulge, abruptly cutting off your imminent release.  You wail into the saturated sock and are rewarded with a scoff.  
  
"You gonna come for me slut?  Earn your right."  
  
Your brow furrows.  What does he want you to do?!  Nevertheless, you’re just desperate enough to try anything to obtain your relief, chastity be damned.  You’ll worry about your sullied virtue later.  But as long as he has subjected you to this, you will not be deprived of some kind of satisfaction.  After all, he did just use you as a pailing receptacle—you deserve some kind of consolation prize regardless of your stance on this provocative issue!  
  
Slurs, defamation, slander, abuse… none of it matters when you are straining in his hands, coated in his fluids and aching from head to toe.  Your teeth gnaw at the fabric drying out your mouth, anxiety warring with arousal as you buck and writhe in his lap, at his mercy, and whimper.  
  
Only then does he ease your agony by letting go and jerking you quickly until you’re messily gushing over his knuckles.  
  
You feel so filthy watching yourself come undone, but the bliss of relief takes over, washing away the guilt as you tighten all around him, hear his appreciative groan, and he wrenches the gag from your mouth to savor your raw scream.  
  
You’ve never come so hard in your life.  Hell, have you ever come before in your life?  He cradles you as you shudder, mewl and milk his bulge stiill nestled deep inside of you.  You focus on the pressure, the thickness, the demanding pulsations, and the waves of pleasure coursing through you, crashing with every spurt.  
  
Sweat beads your brow as you slowly come down from your high like a feather drifting back down to the earth.  He scoops you up and reels you in, nips from one shoulder to the next, and you’re so spent that you can hardly feel a thing above the waist.  
  
His engorged bulge evemtually deflates, but he does not withdraw—not until you make him.  
  
Once you muster the presence of mind, you crawl out of his embrace, grimacing at the sloppy sound of his length slipping out of the worn cavity.  
  
You know Karkat is leering at your backside as if his eyes are hands groping you.  
  
You know you’ll never be the same after this, but that’s not really the part that bothers you.  
  
The part that bothers you most is  _so does he_.


End file.
